Free Murder on the Marmora by Conrad Allen Page B

attracts men without even trying.”
    “It’s a problem many women have to cope with, I fear.”
    He cackled. “That’s a fair comment! But you take my meaning.”
    “I’m more intrigued by your opinion of Herr Lenz,” she said. “You’re the second person this morning who’s told me that he was unduly interested in Myra Cathcart. He was such a sullen dinner companion.”
    “I sympathized with you for having to sit opposite him.”
    “I felt rather sorry for him, Mr. Dugdale. He seemed so lonely.”
    “Didn’t I look lonely as well?”
    “No,” replied Genevieve. “You are such an accomplished traveler that you’d mix easily in any surroundings. That was the difference between the two of you. Herr Lenz stuck out like a sore thumb. You blended in perfectly.”
    “I take that as a compliment.”
    “It was intended as one, Mr. Dugdale.”
    “There is, unfortunately, another difference between the two of us.”
    “Is there?”
    “Yes, Miss Masefield,” he explained. “Karl-Jurgen Lenz is going to Egypt and I’m not. That gives him an advantage. On the other hand,” he continued with a broad grin, “we still have ten days at sea. That gives
me
an advantage.”
    Cackling to himself, he went up the stairs that led to the boat deck. Genevieve was glad he had spoken to her. She liked Walter Dugdale and was happy to be his confidante. What she expectedto happen between him and Myra Cathcart, she did not know, but she had no fears for the latter. Dugdale was kind, urbane, and intelligent. He would be a good friend to Myra and that would make her less reliant on Genevieve. The pleasant and easygoing man from Chicago was a much more appealing individual than the grim photographer from Germany. Genevieve refused to believe that Lenz had a serious interest in Myra Cathcart. He seemed too intense and self-absorbed.
    Genevieve was struck by a sobering thought. Speculating on the curiosity that her friend had sparked off in two dinner companions had taken her mind completely off the subject of Nigel Wilmshurst. Perhaps he would not be the problem she had envisaged. As a married man, his attitude toward her would have undergone a profound change. Instead of fearing a confrontation, she simply had to ignore him. He did, after all, have reason enough to avoid her. Genevieve felt a sense of freedom again. It did not last.
    “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” said Lilian Cathcart, swooping down on her with patent relief. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”
    “What’s wrong with talking here, Miss Cathcart?”
    “It’s not private enough. I need your advice, Miss Masefield.”
    “Then let’s adjourn to the lounge,” suggested Genevieve, leading the way. “You look as if it’s something serious.”
    “It is,” said Lilian, hard on her heels.
    When they got to the first-class lounge, they found a quiet corner from which Genevieve could see without being seen. Lilian Cathcart was evidently upset, faced with a situation that was new and troubling. She launched into an explanation.
    “I’m worried about Mother,” she began. “Something has happened to her.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “She’s changed. Mother is doing things that I find rather unseemly.”
    “Showing an interest in a certain man?”
    “It’s worse than that, Miss Masefield,” said Lilian, chewing a lip. “Mother has always been very friendly, but it’s gone beyond that stage now. She’s encouraging him. It’s so blatant. I blushed when I heard some of the things she said.”
    “Perhaps you weren’t meant to hear them,” Genevieve said tactfully.
    “I don’t follow.”
    “Your mother is an adult. Like you, she can do whatever she chooses.”
    “I’d never embarrass her in that way. It was hurtful.”
    “I’m sure that Mrs. Cathcart didn’t mean it to be,” said Genevieve. “Besides, one of the pleasures of a voyage like this is to explore new friendships. That’s all your mother is doing. Have no worries about Mr.